They may say what they will, but it does one ten times
more good to leave Bath than to go to it. I
may sometimes drink the waters, as Mr. Bentley used
to say I invited company hither that I did not care
for, that I might enjoy the pleasure of their going
away. My health is certainly amended, but I did
not feel the satisfaction of it till I got home.
I have still a little rheumatism in one shoulder,
which was not dipped in Styx, and is still mortal;
but, while I went to the rooms, or stayed in my chambers
in a dull court, I thought I had twenty complaints.
I don’t perceive one of them.

Having no companion but such as the place afforded,
and which I did not accept, my excursions were very
few; besides that the city is so guarded with mountains,
that I had not patience to be jolted like a pea in
a drum, in my chaise alone. I did go to Bristol,
the dirtiest great shop I ever saw, with so foul a
river, that, had I seen the least appearance of cleanliness,
I should have concluded they washed all their linen
in it, as they do at Paris. Going into the town,
I was struck with a large Gothic building, coal-black,
and striped with white; I took it for the devil’s
cathedral. When I came nearer, I found it was
a uniform castle, lately built, and serving for stables
and offices to a smart false Gothic house on the other
side of the road.